


The Things You Don’t See

by slidepool



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Cutting, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Steve Rogers Has Issues, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 13:32:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14356524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slidepool/pseuds/slidepool
Summary: TRIGGER WARNING!! Steve Rogers angst.





	The Things You Don’t See

**Author's Note:**

> I never can seem to find fics about Steve being the one who’s depressed or hurt. So I wanted to change that. MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING!! Please know that hurting yourself is not the answer to anything. Remember, you’re worth it. Even if you don’t think so, you’re worth so much and this dark patch isn’t going to last forever.

-Steve's Pov-

My breath came in gasps and gulps; almost sobs as fat tears slipped down my face and dripped off. I sat on the floor with my back flat against the wall in my bathroom. I couldn't take it anymore. I wanted nothing more than to go back, to be with Bucky and Peggy. I wanted to be back in old Brooklyn I used to know so well. The world doesn't need me, it has better hero's then an outdated relic like me. I'm not needed, I'm only eye candy for a team that can function without me.

No one seemed to notice the constant pain and fear within me, granted I always kept it hidden. Hidden just under Captain's facade. It wasn't their fault, I don't blame them, they need Captain America more then they need Steve Rogers. But I can only hold that mask for so long. Cap's mask slipped as soon as the tears started to flow, revealing what's left of myself; a broken war veteran that doesn't belong anymore.

My straight razor sat on the counter nearby. It was tempting me, taunting me. It was funny really. Tony had given it to me as an old man joke but I don't use it to shave. I use it to cut myself. Probably wouldn't have given it to me if he knew I would use it other than intended. He knew Captain America wouldn't do such a thing, but not Steve Rogers.

No one seemed to realize that they're two different people. Two different mindsets and skills. Cap was never scared, never overwhelmed, and was always thought to be the perfect soldier and the perfect man. But Steve was the complete opposite personality.

I took a breath, rolled up my pant legs, and grabbed the straight razor. My hands were shaking. I knew it was wrong and unhealthy, but it felt so good. I lost it and started thrashing. I had started tearing apart my legs, one after another and there was no stopping. It was one hard stroke of the blade after another, leaving dark beading blood to drip. I didn't care if I couldn't hide them or not. I didn't care if anyone found out. I stopped thinking as I sat and cut and cut and cut and cut and cut and cut and cut...

~~~~~~

My eyes strained at my bathroom light as I opened them. I don't remember passing out, or how long it's been. My vision focused only for me to be staring at the bathroom floor. I must have tumbled over when I passed out, the razor lay dropped at my feet. Waiting for my strength to come back I looked and examined the damage I'd done. Most of the cuts were crusted over but some still oozed and dripped. I couldn't feel much now but I knew if I tried to move it would be agony. My eyes drooped, I wanted nothing more but to fall back into unconsciousness, but my iPhone rang and jolted me back to reality. I forgot I left it in my bedroom nearby. Sighing I let it ring until there was a soft bing signaling I had a voicemail. I didn't bother myself with it, I needed to get myself together enough to clean up.

I took a breath and slowly stood, using the counters and walls for support. I silently thanked myself for specifically buying black towels that hide stains well. I grabbed a couple and made them damp, wrapping one around both my bloodied legs. I sprayed some lavender scent to mask the prominent metallic smell of blood but neglected to clean up the puddles and small splatters of blood. Slowly but surely I made my way out of the bathroom and into my bedroom, heaving myself onto edge my the bed to sit. I retrieved my emergency kit from my nightstand drawer, I kept it in there for times like this. It held the usual medical material; rolled gauze, gauze pads, scissors, antibacterial gel, and medical tape. Setting the kit nearby I took the towels off, giving me a good look at the mess. The cuts ranged from light to almost too deep. Blood had crusted and dried, keeping more from dripping. It looked like my legs had been through a blender, guilt rushed through me. Using what water was left on the towels I gently patted clean my legs and set out what I needed from my kit. I wrapped them up in gauze and made sure it would stay on with a bit of medical tape. I would have to change the wraps over time but for the moment I looked like a partial mummy. I put away the kit and slid it back into the nightstand, scooting myself around the bed so I would lay on top of the covers. I had a lot of things to fix, starting with myself, but there was no more thinking as I fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> This is being heavily edited but it will continue. It might take some time though :)  
> Edit: Total story revamp as of 11/14/18  
> Edit: Minor fixes as of 4/14/19 and yes I plan on updating soon


End file.
